The road was deserted. Our tricycle came to a halt right in front of Lazi Convent’s entrance. I stepped out of the vehicle and shifted my gaze from the convent to San Isidro Labrador Church (or simply Lazi Church).

Lazi Convent, humbly grand.
There’s something about the rawness and unpolished-ness of the two that make them innocently charming. And that innocently charming persona in a tranquil environment can make anyone stop, sit and stare.

At least, that’s what it did to us.

Shervin and I just came from Kagusuan Beach. During the ride to Lazi, we were raving about how pristine the beach is (actually, “pristine” is an adjective I’d use to describe all of Siquijor’s beaches) and how quaint are the towns on the island. So when we were taken to this massive old convent, my head was clouded with disbelief.

The construction of the convent began in 1887 and was completed in 1891. If Siquijor still got an unsullied vibe up to this day, I wonder how it was 120 years ago. I’m certain it was such an imposing building during its time, in the middle of nowhere. The convent, I’ve read, was also utilized as a vacation house for priests. Must have been a 5-starish accommodation in paradise, ei?

Its first floor now is being used by a school. I believe on the second floor there’s a small museum with relics on exhibit. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough time to see it.

San Isidro Labrador Church.
After closely examining the make of the convent (and sitting for what seemed like an eternity on a bench under an acacia tree), we walked over to Lazi Church just across the road.

A tarp clinging on one of the church’s doors heeds a warning (via very specific illustrations) that visitors not properly dressed are not allowed to enter. Whether this applies during mass or not, I didn’t enter anyway and just took a peek inside.

Aging gracefully.
We circled around the structure quickly. The church was constructed earlier than the convent and was completed in 1884 by Filipino artisans. Perhaps the same labor force who worked on the latter.

No one was around. We would have spent a few minutes sitting on the grass within the church grounds if not for the sudden blare from a player’s speakers. A few students were about to practice some dance at a covered court nearby. When Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” broke the stillness of the town, we scurried back to our tricycle and pleaded kuya to immediately take us out of there.

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